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“Ewe,” Remi had lamented just inside the door. “My hair is crusty. So gross!”
Her face had a slight pink hue of sunburn. “Okay, let’s shower then meet downstairs and decide dinner. Maybe we can get delivery?”
Remi’s mouth had dropped open in feigned surprise. “I thought you were going to cook!” She started up the stairs in front of me.
At the top of the stairs, we both went in different directions. “Race ya! I’m too hungry to cook!”
“Why don’t you order before you shower then?” Her face poked around her door. “That way it will be waiting when we finish?” She smiled just before it closed.
I was left to decide what to order for dinner. We’d had a lot of junk food and barbeque in the last twenty-four hours, so I chose Asian salads and avocado, turkey, and bacon sandwiches on multigrain bread from a local deli for our evening meal and then quickly shed my clothes as I went into the bathroom in my bedroom.
I hoped the bed, unslept in the night before, would remain so tonight, but not because I was expecting anything to happen beyond an honest conversation and maybe another movie night together.
Regret filled me as I stepped under the warm spray, I wished this weekend could go on a few more days. Maybe I’d ask her how she felt about it during dinner. I could put off going to the ranch for a few days, but it was Remi and her volunteer schedule and Alan, that would dictate our plans.
I huffed in disgust. How could I despise a man I’d never met, yet somehow, there was a deep-seated dislike festering inside my chest. I was jealous of the relationship he had with her, with his access to her time, with his ability to just be around her.
Even more, I was jealous of the wasted time that we could have been together. I was my own fault, I concluded. I inhaled a deep breath of the steam that filled the shower as I squeezed shampoo onto my palm and proceeded to scrub my scalp, maybe a bit too hard in a sort of self-punishment. I turned to quickly rinse my hair.
“There is nothing to be done about the past,” I muttered as the soapy water ran down my body. I reached for a towel and in a few seconds was toweling myself dry in front of the mirror.
One thing I was sure of, Alan wouldn’t have my physique. The strict diet and workout schedule I held to, plus the endless hours on the soccer field had honed my body to be in the best shape of my life. I was lean, and strong. The women of my past loved it, but they weren’t who mattered. Remi had more substance than most and she wouldn’t care about the superficial stuff. It made me respect her even more. If Remi ever said she loved me, I’d know it would be for me: my soul, my character, my morals, and our shared past of always being able to rely on each other.
I had a healthy tan from many hours of practice outside; the weather in South Carolina was temperate; in the mid-sixties beginning in March and the sunny most days, but I noticed I had new lines on my arms where my T-shirt hid most of my biceps and shoulders. I was lucky that I hadn’t burned the way Remi had and I hoped her tender skin’s pink hue wouldn’t be worse than it appeared. I wanted to touch her tonight and I didn’t want it to be painful.
Far from it.
I dried my hair with the towel then met my own eyes in the mirror contemplating how the evening would go and what I’d say to her to get her to dump her boyfriend and give me a shot.
I just hoped my imagined version of Alan was the truth.
I heard Chase’s words in my head as I had heard them many times throughout my life… since I was nine years old and first told him that I wanted to play professional and college soccer, too.
“You can’t score if you don’t try and keep trying. Keep your focus on the goal. Find the path of least resistance and take the shot, Dylan. Always take the shot. If you miss, set it up again.”
I nodded at my own reflection, steeling myself to visualize the outcome that I wanted. And what I wanted was Remi.
Dylan
“Dylan! Dinner is here!” Remi called from downstairs.
I finished running a brush through my wet hair and threw on a clean white T-shirt over my favorite khaki shorts. I’d brought my cologne with me on this trip, and I grabbed it, spritzing the air in front of me and then walked through it. I wanted to smell nice after the sweaty early summer day at the amusement park but avoided being too obvious or ostentatious. I took a deep breath and paused one more minute to gather my thoughts and calm my nerves before joining Remi downstairs.
The past twenty-four hours had been amazing; not in an extraordinary way, but in just being with Remi and doing normal things that two young people do, way. The Remi and Dylan way that we used to. We had a lot of fun soaking up each other’s company and for me, that was enough to make the day spectacular. Remi was unlike any other woman I’d ever known in my life, and I wanted her back in it.
I struggled with what I wanted to say to her. Would my telling her my intentions spook her? Considering we had only just reconnected, maybe I was rushing things, but if I didn’t tell her, would she run off and marry Alan without telling me?
“Uhhhhgggggg!” I groaned, leaning on my hands, which were resting on the marble vanity in the bathroom. My head fell forward at what seemed the impossibility of what I wanted, then I snapped up to meet my own eyes in the mirror. I stared at my reflection, struggling with my emotions, and trying to figure out the best course of action. That, I couldn’t stand.
“Dyylllaannn! Aren’t you hungry?” Remi called again. “It’s getting cold!”
Without taking more time to think about it, I hurried out of the room and down the stairs. My eyes landed on Remi standing with her back to me as she unloaded the food from the plastic delivery bag and set a salad and panini next to each place setting. She was dressed casually in frayed jean shorts and an old white knit tank top, and her glorious hair fell down her back in dark waves to stop just above her waist. My breath literally caught in my throat. I wished I could tell her how hungry I was and for what.
Though the blinds were down, they were angled open a window to the right of the round wooden table and chair set that was off to one end of the space. Remi’s skin was glowing from the pink and orange hues of the sunset filtering in between the blinds and the kitchen was located opposite the window with the leather furniture, stone fireplace and television situated between the two.
Upon hearing my footsteps on the stairs, Remi glanced over her shoulder. “Is it okay to eat at the table?” she asked. “Or would you rather eat in front of the television?”
I wanted to talk, and the TV would be an unwelcome distraction.
